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You think that I don’t notice you staring
at my scars, but I notice your eyes darting to my arms within minutes of our
conversation starting.

You think its not obvious but it is, and
while I put on a brave face, continue looking you in the eye I’m hurting on the
inside because I know the look you are giving me. I’ve seen it many times
before, the look of judgment, disgust, sympathy and the overwhelming lack of
trust crossing your face, of fear, of wonder, you ask yourself “why would she
show her arms like that?” telling yourself “she must be crazy to do something
like that to herself” I see it day in and day out, I face judgment, silent
judgment. I don’t go out of my way to cover or hide my scars; in certain situations
I make the personal choice to cover them to protect myself more than to protect
those around me.

I have scars littering my arms, from shoulders
to wrists and hands too. I have scars covering my thighs, from hip to knee and
indeed some on my calf too. I have scars across my chest and down my stomach.
These scars, once a sight which symbolised strength are now beginning to loose
their meaning and the love/hate relationship I once had with them is slowly
developing into a relationship full of hate and yet full of acceptance. You see my
scars and you cast judgment, you may not say it directly to my face but I can
see it in your eyes, in your expression and in your silence. But you don’t
understand, you don’t understand the war that I fought for many years, the war
that I’m sill fighting, the war within my mind.

I may have days without self-harm, weeks,
months even but that doesn’t mean my temptations have been weakened, the urge
to silence my thoughts have disappeared but it means I am coming out on top, fighting
fit and desperately trying to win the battle. My healing scars don’t excite me
any longer, they don’t give me relief any longer but they do remind me that I
am strong, strong enough to keep battling through. For every scar I have made
it means I have not taken things a step further and ended it all, they remind
me that I have got through some pretty rough times.

I have given many years of my life to
self-harm and indeed to depression and BPD. I’ve pretended to be someone I
wasn’t, acting as if everything was fine, putting a smile on my face and
reassuring people I was fine when in fact I wasn’t. You look at my scars and
wonder “how could she do that to herself?” I look at my scars and I think the
same thing, how could I destroy my body as much as I have? How could I have
done that to myself? I’m 21 and I’m covered in scars, some may fade, many will
not. At times it disgusts me, looking in the mirror seeing what I have done to
my body, regretting it but unable to change it. This disgust only fuels the
urges and the desires to do it again, because what else do I have to loose?
What difference will one more scare make?

If I could go back to when this all began I
wouldn’t make the first cut! If the 13 year old me could see me know she would
be shocked, like many of you who see my scars. She would be ashamed, like many
of you feel I should me. You might think that your just staring, like your not
conveying your thoughts or feelings but when you stare your eyes speak a
thousand words, and each word sticks in my mind like superglue. Your eyes are
the windows to your mind, showing your thoughts, feelings and emotions.

When you stare, when you look and stare I
can see that you think I’m looking for attention, I can see that you think I
should cover my arms, I can see more than you think I can. Self-harm is hard to
talk about and I understand how some people may not want their children exposed
to it, and so I try where possible to keep it hidden, and if it is still in
sight I will never tell a child I cut myself because they wont understand it
and I know its not my place to do it.

These scars belong to me, the show the
battles I have faced but these battles are mine. These scars are part of me
whether I like it or not. I’m working to fight self-harm, I’m working to get
control of it and make it a thing of the past for good but your silent
judgment, you untrusting eyes and you disgusted expression make it that much
harder. Your whispers to the person next to you, your stares and your sympathy
make me feel worthless, isolated and increase the disgust I feel towards
myself.

For anyone who is staring at my scars,
please don’t. I know they are there and they are not on show because I want you
to notice them, they are simple visible because sometimes I get too warm in a
jumper just like you. Don’t stare because I have a hard enough time loving
myself that I don’t need others to make me feel self-conscious. Don’t stare
because even though you don’t realise it, your eyes are showing your thoughts
and your judgments. Don’t stare because I know they are there, I know they are
part of me and I know they make me somewhat different, I don’t need to be
reminded of that. Don’t stare because you can see my scars because you never
know who might be hiding there’s, don’t stare because you don’t know that my
scars might empower someone to seek help. I’m sorry if my scars make you
uncomfortable but your staring makes me uncomfortable and I just have to deal
with it or cover up to suit you.

I have had a number
of suicide attempts since I was a teenager with my most recent only being a fewmonths ago. It’s a strange thing, when you feel that taking your life is the
only option. It’s a lonely feeling, feeling as if there is no one else around you
who can understand what you are feeling. And it is a scaring feeling when you
realize for whatever reason that your attempt has not been successful.

Why is it scary?
Well depending on your method you think what could the long term damage, if
any, be. I know that might not seem like something that could cross your mind
but for me, particularly after the most recent attempt it was an issue that
created a large amount of fear among other emotions. But it’s scary for other
reasons too. Your scared of how people will react, how you will go about
getting on with your life, will you try it again? When it doesn’t work your
scared, how will I be able to live when I can’t think, feel, or function
normally? Did I really want to die? What happens next? But sometimes too you
may feel hopeful, hopeful that this attempt will get you the help and support
that you so desperately desire and need.

Life after a suicide
attempt isn’t easy. People are not always sure about what they can do to help
you, how they can support you, and often they find themselves treating you
differently although that may not be their intention. Sometimes after a suicide
attempt people expect you to go back to your life, doing what you did before
and pretend that nothing ever happened but it doesn’t always work that way.
There are some things that people, in order to be able to help you, need to
know after a suicide attempt and these things are:

Going back to
everyday life is hard.

Its not easy to get
up and get back into your routine after a suicide attempt after all I wasn’t
planning on being here to do that so it takes extra energy, strength and
support to ease yourself back into a routine. Its an overwhelming time, full of
emotions, and in order to help someone you need to be patient, you cannot
expect everything to just go back to “normal” and even if things do go back to
“normal” that doesn’t mean you are support the person experiencing a crisis
because what is normal for you may be hell for them.

Recovery.

You want me to
recover and so do I but that doesn’t mean it is going to be simple and quick.
Recovery takes time and it has its ups and downs. It is a journey that needs
time; it’s a journey that requires you to take a few wrong turns in order to
find the right path. It is a process and although it might not be apparent I do
desperately cling to the idea that there is some hope, some possibility that I
can and will recover. But most of all I need you to know that I need you to
help me recognize and claim the small victories, getting out of bed on a bad
day, going for a walk, just making it through the day is essential for
recovering.

I care.

I know you will feel
that I don’t care; you will think if you cared about me you wouldn’t leave me,
am I right? But the fact is that it is because I care about you so much I
couldn’t stand to watch you see me hurting. I couldn’t face being the reason
for your sadness. It is because I care so much that I hope you will have a
better life without me, without me as a burden, weighing you down preventing you
from doing things. Anything I have ever done was not to hurt you but to stop
hurting me and to prevent me from hurting you. I thought I was protecting you,
solving the problem and giving you your life back. I didn’t do it because I
didn’t care; in my mind this was my way of showing that I care.

It’s not your fault.

Your going to ask
yourself is this because of me? Did I do something to make her want to die? To
make her try and take her own life and the answer is no, this is not your
fault. In order for me to recover, to cling onto that little bit of hope I have
left I need you to stop blaming yourself, I need you to know that you are not
the reason for my actions nor is it your responsibility to “fix” me. It was my
decision, my choice, the only choice I felt I had left. It was not your fault
and you need to believe me.

I need you.

There will be times
when I wont want to talk to you, I will push you away and tell you I hate you
but the truth is I need you because without you I wont be able to recover, I wont
be able to come out the other side and I wont be able to live, to be happy, to
feel positive emotions. It will be hard because I wont let you in, I will shut
you out, screen your calls, slam doors in your face, and call you every name
under the sun but I need you. I need you to stick by me, I need you to know
that with you by my side I will be able to come out the other side because if I
loose you what else do I have to live for?

Suicide is a scary
thing not just for you but also for the person who attempted it. Life after a
suicide attempt requires time and patience but must of all some love and care.
In order to recover, and I do believe recovery is possible, we will need each
other, to walk hand in hand and to come out the other side!

As a child I was told that it was wrong to
tell a lie, as I grew up I learned that it wasn’t so black and white- is lying
always wrong? Throughout my life I have learned that when it comes to
protecting the ones you love that lying might not always be wrong and I guess
that’s why I did it, I guess in order to protect my family I did what I thought
was right and I lied.

When I began to feel sad, isolated, and
hopeless and life wasn’t worth living I would lie. I told people I was ok, I
said “I’m fine” I didn’t want to let them in, I didn’t want to let them know I
was dying inside and I didn’t want to hurt them or to worry them and so I lied,
I said “I’m fine”

I lied day after day; I lie so I can
protect those around me. To my family, my friends, and my colleagues. It’s not
a conscious decision to lie, but a conscious decision to protect those around
me but also to protect myself. I say it with a smile on my face when some asks, “How
are you?” It protects me from opening up about what’s troubling me, it protects
me from letting you in, it protects me from judgment, abandonment, and it
protects me.

Sometimes I say, “I’m fine” because I know how people
will react. I know some people will think the worst if they know how I really
feel, I know they will jump to conclusions, worry, want to protect me and
suffocate me in order to keep me safe. I appreciate it, I really do, but sometimes
that can do more harm than good. Sometimes I lie because I fear people will
think I’m looking for attention, think I’m making up and it will hinder our
relationship. Sometimes I lie to avoid being a burden, so people can get on
with their own life and not have to worry about me. And sometimes, sometimes I
lie because I don’t want to admit to myself that I’m not doing ok, that I might
need some extra support and that I am not able to go through this alone.

I have got to a stage in my life where I
try to be honest, I try to open up and I try to avoid telling people “I’m fine”
when I know and they know that I’m not. Its hard you see because I can never be
too sure how people are going to react, I think to myself if a lie protects
someone else from hurting then surely that is the better thing to do, is it
not? Its hard because I don’t want to make a conscious decision to lie but at
the same time I recognise that sometimes it is a conscious decision because I
so desperately want to protect those around me. I try not to lie, I try to be
honest but its hard and sometimes when the people I care most about find out I
have lied it causes more damage, but at the same time being upfront and honest
can cause more damage also.

I know that no matter what the ones who care about
me are always going to worry and try to help, regardless of whether or not I
tell them how I am really feeling, so it begs the questions is lying only making
things harder for me?

I was diagnosed with BPD when I was around
19, a condition which can only be diagnosed after turning 18 it was clear that
it had been fostering within me for many years before hand, side by side with
my depression. When I was diagnosed I did the usual googling to find out as
much as I could and what I found out only increased my anxieties surrounding my
condition! Despite this though it did help, having a name, having something to
relate to, its almost like being able to account for the reasons as to why I respond
to things in certain ways, it has helped me to understand myself. Although it
has contributed to a greater understanding and self-awareness it has not been
without its difficulties, dealing with BPD is a daily issue, one that feels
like a never ending cycle, almost as if I have been sentenced to a life with
BPD.

I have good days and I have bad days. I
have days where I almost feel like I don’t have BPD, when I a not so sensitive
to different things that happen, when I don’t fly off the handle for someone
living a cup at the sink or when I don’t cry because I see something sad, its
almost as if I feel “normal” I have good days where I don’t act on my impulses,
where I don’t automatically reach for something to self-harm with when I’m in
distress and I almost begin to feel like I’m “normal” I have days where I
experience positive relationships with people rather than one minute hating
them and the next minute loving them and I almost begin to feel “normal” After
being diagnosed with borderline I because to feel even more out of the norm
than before. Initially experiencing depression made me feel like an outcast,
excluded from society but when the diagnosis of borderline was added, despite
its benefits for understanding myself I truly felt like I didn’t belong within
society, like I was something that dropped down from space, an alien.

It has been a continuous battle with
borderline, one, which I feel I’m loosing. I so desperately want to win; I am
clinging on to every little ounce of hope that I can find but there are days
when I am defeated, resigned to the fact that I will live with BPD for the rest
of my life. I’ve done DBT and now I’m hoping Pieta House can help with the
self-harm aspect but it will never be gone, BPD almost seems like it will be
apart of me for the rest of my days. Can I live with it? Can I really live with
this emotion deregulation, struggling with relationships and desperately fighting not to act on impulses? It just seems that BPD is apart of me and its here to stay.

How can I know that my feelings will
dissipate when they are so strong that they leave me feeling hopeless,
worthless and exhausted? When will the anger fade? When will the sadness
lessen? When will the anxiety calm? Nothing lasts forever right? So why do
these feelings never cease to exist? When will I overcome my fear of abandonment,
will I ever? How will I become accept the ever-changing nature of the world?
When will I no longer fear the pain associated with friendships and
relationships?

I want to say that BPD is not a life
sentence, I want to say that it will not control me, or hinder me throughout my
life but the uncertainty, the lack of clarity and the confusion surrounding it
prevents me from seeing a future without BPD in my life.

I’m all about looking after myself,
ensuring I can keep mind in a positive space and self-care is something, which
I have had to work at consistently over the past year or two. I struggle with
self-care sometimes but because I am aware of how hard it can be too look after
my mental health at times I have worked hard to ensure there are little
reminders around the place to help me when I need it most. Despite these
reminders, despite working hard to keep positive and look after myself there
are some days when my borderline and depression win.

Recently I had a rough day; there was no
doubt in my mind that my depression had control. I was left feeling lonely,
isolated, worthless and surrounded by negative thoughts of self-harm. Its days
like this that people tell you that you need to look after yourself, focus on
being positive and do the things that you need to in order to help get you
through the day but the things that you need to do and the things that you do
can often be very different. On days like this the main aim is to get through
the day without self-harming, easier said than done! In order to get through
the day without self-harming things like going for walks, meeting with friends,
colouring, doing athletics or writing are the things which people encourage you
to do and indeed are the things I know I should do but what it doing those
things cause more anxiety and more negative feelings? What do you do then?

When it is a day when you cant see the
light at the end of the tunnel, when you have no energy or strength to get out
of the bed and when all you want to do is surrender to the duvet and shut out
the world how can I focus on self-care if, self care only contributes to these
feelings. You see the mind is a funny thing and when you mix in a mental health
issue it becomes so much more complicated. How cans the desire to loom after
yourself make you feel worse? These are the days when BPD and depression well
and truly win, they have the power and in order to try and regain some level of
control I must fuel its energy.

Sometimes on days like this self-care is
staying in bed, it is sleeping, doing the bare minimum in order to get through
the day. Sometimes when my borderline has me well and truly hanging on through
the emotional rollercoaster abandoning everything is what allows me to survive
the day without self-harming. Sometimes in order to come out on top, to get
ahead of the rest you have to give and take, so on the days when I know trying
to actively beat my borderline and depression is only going to increase my
frustration, encourage my self-harming behaviours and thoughts I will retreat
to my bed, abandon everything and let my mental health issues win because in
order to come out on top I have to accept that I cannot win every battle! So
when self-care means staying in bed to avoid self-harming and letting my mental
health issues win, that is what I will do because I know, I know that I will be
the one coming out on top, fighting stronger than ever the next day!